In the spring of 1989, I was 20 and I still planned on taking over the world. I’d been running my first business for close to two years with no vacation, working through most weekends, to the tune of over 120 hours per week. When a friend of mine who was attending BYU called and invited me to come and visit him, it occurred to me to take some time off of work. So I actually booked a vacation to Provo, Utah. Imagine that: a vacation to Provo, Utah. My only excuse is that working like a dog for two years plays terrible tricks on one’s sense of what is normal.
What I found at BYU was absolutely astonishing. When you go to college, you can roll out of bed whenever you want. You can decide to go to class — if you feel like it. During an ultra-heavy course load, you only average about 4 hours of classes a day. After every big deadline, you get a major vacation break. It had never occurred to me that a place like this could exist. This was way easier than working for a living. I could so do this.

Plus, I met this chick I’ll call Helena. Helena was kinda’ hot. And she was really amazing. And she was 28. We started talking at some party that we went to, so I asked her out.

There’s a Tony Roma’s restaurant in Provo near Albertson’s on University Parkway, and it used to be a Mexican Restaurant until a bunch of people who ate there got botulism or some other kind of food poisoning. I can’t remember exactly what kind. Anyway, that’s where we ate dinner — that Mexican place where they got botulism.

Helena told me a story about this woman who had been tremendously influential in her life. She was in her late 50s. She had been in an accident that left her confined to a wheel chair, after which her husband left her for another woman. She was well respected in her ward and stake, and she held a stake calling. Shortly before Helena went on her mission, Helena helped this woman move a bunch of things out of her attic. During the process of doing this, Helena discovered that the woman owned a sex toy.

Helena was, of course, shocked. The woman wasn’t bashful about it at all, in spite of Helena’s obvious dismay. The woman simply stated that at her age and in her condition, she had little hope of finding another mate and experiencing physical intimacyÂ again.

Helena then discussed all of the emotions she had felt after learning all of this: the conflict that she wrestled with on her mission, her gradual acceptance after she returned home, and especially the moments of empathy that she felt as she grew older and her friends got married while she remained single.

I was enthralled — enraptured even. I was hanging on her every word. Then she dropped the bomb. As nonchalantly as one might ask the time of day, she asked me, “How often do you masturbate?”

I immediately became aware that I was standing before a major crossroads in my life. But which path should I choose? In spite of my impeccable reputation for flouting authority, I was something of a stuffed shirt. Was I ready to be that candid? Was I ready stop hiding behind the comfortable lies of boyhood adolescence? Was I ready to discuss something so thoroughly undignified? Would she even believe me if I denied it? What was I to say?

I leaned forward and smiled. I looked her straight in the eye and out came my answer. I told the truth, and we discussed it for some time. After that, the conversation continued for hours, meandering through all kinds of topics. I don’t know how well I held up my end of conversation, but Helena was very kind. We had a really great time that night, and we had a terrific conversation. Helena was preparing to attend graduate school in Florida for the fall semester. Though we kept in touch for a while, I never saw her again after my vacation to Provo. That was 18 years ago. It changed my life.

Once I arrived back home from that vacation to Provo, I resolved to go to college. I took the ACT and applied to BYU. BYU rejected my application, because I never graduated from high school and (whatâ€™s worse) Iâ€™d been thrown out of every school Iâ€™d ever attended. Undeterred, I started attending anyway (fall 1989). I did manage to eventually weasel my way in, but that’s a topic for another post.

My resolve to go to college amounted to little more than a whim. I had this vague but urgent belief that attending college would be tremendously liberating, and not just because of the extreme comparative easiness of the endeavor. At 20 years old, I was young and naÃ¯ve enough to base this belief on a few unforgettable and life changing experiences that I’d had during a week-long vacation to Provo; specifically, some very candid conversations that I’d had with a woman about sex. In the end, it was like so very many things in a guy’s life: it was about a girl as much as it was about anything.

And I’m happy to report that it was a liberating experience, both at Brigham Young University and later (after BYU threw me out) at Wabash College.

DKL, what kind of business had you been running for two years at the age of twenty? Just curious.

Interesting that you had to deal with the question of masturbation and honesty … that’s a pretty gnarly question for a girl to ask a guy on a ‘first date’ – although it sounds like this relationship didn’t continue past the first great and in-depth restaurant conversation.

Clearly, women can end up having some interesting and candid conversations (with each other) about sex.

Interesting in my limited life experiences, I have never had that type of conversation with guys, let alone females. I think it is always amazing to look back on our lives when we are young and realize how very little rational thought goes into some of our decisions…

[I]t used to be a Mexican Restaurant until a bunch of people who ate there got botulism or some other kind of food poisoning. I canâ€™t remember exactly what kind. Anyway, thatâ€™s where we ate dinner â€” that Mexican place where they got botulism.

It was the shigellosis contamination, Labor Day weekend in 1990. Good times.

My dad, then a native South Dakotan and non-Mormon, decided to attend BYU for some odd reason. He always says it was because he heard that the guys there all take off for two years and leave their women behind. Not sure if that’s the real reason, but he ain’t sayin.

I remember at BYU, church leaders were always wringing their hands over the numbers of people graduating single. I did so, and met my wife in DC.

I graduated single, moved to Massachusetts and met my wife on the Internet, only to discover that she was at BYU at the same time I was. We overlapped by like two semesters, and we were in the same International Politics/Relations program! Heh.

I remember at BYU, church leaders were always wringing their hands over the numbers of people graduating single. I did so, and met my wife in DC.

I have a hard time imagining church leaders wringing their hands over this sort of thing. Is it really their responsibility to make marriages happen for undergraduate students?

I remember seeing one roommate packing up his stuff (after graduating from BYU). He was leaving Utah for graduate work in CA and he was visibly angry – in fact he’d been dissatisfied and angry for awhile – the reason being that he was not finding a wife and then he was leaving BYU single. In the back of my mind I had rather sarcastic images running of what he must have been expecting – school officials handing out wives with diplomas. “Here you are son – congratulations.”

Of course this was the same roommate who had wondered aloud whether running into the same girl more than once in a day (on campus) might be some kind of spiritual sign.

Danithew:what kind of business had you been running for two years at the age of twenty?

We sold computers to the government. The good news is that there are small-business set-asides and plenty of government agencies buying computers. The bad news is that we had to pay cash to buy the equipment that we sold and then wait 45 to 60 days for payment. This was where I learned the difference between profit and cash flow. If we won a bid that was much larger than average, our cash flow would go through a dry spell.

“Dry spell” isn’t quite the right term for it. They were more like crazy spells. In addition to recharging toner cartridges for cash, selling used computers, and servicing copiers and printers, my partner and I sometimes sold personal possessions — a pool table, a car, furniture. One day, a truck pulled up down the block and they had a sheriff’s auction right there. We bought a bunch of stuff for next to nothing and sold it over the next week in the paper.

Running a business has all the short-term advantages of indentured servitude. Typical day: in by 10:30am, out by 4:00am; aside from the occasional night out with friends or date, I mostly just worked. I suppose that if one spends that much time doing anything, she’ll end up with something to show for it. So after two years, we had a several dozen employees, an actual warehouse, real offices, and a computer on my desk that we didn’t have to sell every month.

Dan Ellsworth:Did she actually use that unpleasant-sounding m-word, or did she use one of the many, many euphemisms out there?

She asked exactly how I describe it, with the M-word in full glory.

Rusty:Hey Miranda… er, I mean DKL, are you sure this isnâ€™t a post for a future BoH project?

Nope. This is authentic history. It really happened.

mfranti:We could make DKL blush!

Not a chance!

Justin:It was the shigellosis contamination [at the Mexican Restaurant], Labor Day weekend in 1990. Good times.

Yes, that’s it. Thanks for the clarification!

Devyn S:I think it is always amazing to look back on our lives when we are young and realize how very little rational thought goes into some of our decisions…

Yes and no. The rationality of the decision must match its import. For me, going to college wasn’t that big of a deal. My parents wanted me to go — my dad had 3 masters degrees and my brother graduated from UVA law school. I didn’t much care. I wasn’t really burned out. I was ready to keep plugging away day and night to continue to build the business, and the business was booming. I certainly don’t earn more now because I went to college. I am, nevertheless, immenensely glad I went. It was like a multi-year vacation.

Nick, I’ve heard that maxim about two kinds of men before. I think that it is an unfotunate thing to believe, because it is hurtful to the third class of man who actually does not masturbate due to some physical handicap or malady. For example, it’s bad enough for a man to have no hands, but it adds insult to injury to classify him among the liars because he doesn’t claim to masturbate.

BenThere, I believe that a caeful reading of my post leaves the answers to those questions (and a few others) beyond doubt.

Danithew, your first comment remarks about the length of the relationship. We actually went on another date while I was out there, and for the remainder of my Provo vacation, she frequntly joined my friend and I when we went out to do things. We continued to talk by phone for a while after I returned and she moved to Florida, but things gradually died down.

(1) You don’t need hands to masturbate. That’s very hands-centric of you.

(2) I seem to remember that you were sort of “Al-Capone’d” out of BYU. The Bishop gave your lack of church attendance as the reason, but it was a little like getting the mob boss for tax evasion. Is that wrong? (Also, you didn’t do a good job of charming your Bishop. I never went to church, but every year, during my interview for the ecclesiastic endorsement, I seemed to be able to convince him that I was *just* at the cusp of reactivity. Maybe he was just being nice.)

Regarding the reason for my expulsion, I don’t pretend that I never violated any standards besides church attendance. But honestly, I’d really taken the administration’s professed reasoning for expulsion at face value. After all, I do know students who were disciplined by the standards Nazi’s based on hearsay. So if the school has that mode of discipline available to them, and they had any good dirt on me, why bother with the ecclesiastical endorsement excuse?

I always was a bit flippant with my bishop. Each year, in the ecclesiastical endorsement interview, my bishop would warn me that if I didn’t start attending church again, he’d refuse to sign the endorsement. I usually said something to the effect of, “Whatever, dude. I’ve got classes to attend. Can you sign the endorsement already?” I practically dared the poor guy to yank the thing. If I’d have chosen an approach that was less off-putting, I may have ended up graduating from BYU. For my part, I’m glad I didn’t. Having a degree from BYU on one’s resume is like having a bad tattoo in a very visible place.